Cyberslacking

Please check out the links posted on the righthand column of this Web site to keep up on the commerce we and our friends are making careers out of -- but if you want to waste time and have some fun, visit these. Also, if you want me to link your biz site to my links, let me know!

www.engrish.com
www.mycathatesme.com
www.elfyourself.com

There are some great face-morphing sites I pulled off the wire at work -- I'll add those later.

Here's McClatchy Tribune's top picks for 2006:

Web Search: Best of 2006 online
By Randy A. Salas
McClatchy Newspapers

As another year draws to a close, various Web sites have started posting their "best of 2006" selections. Some of these sample lists don't cover typical subjects, but, hey, this is Web Search.

TOP BABY NAMES If it's Aidan or rhymes with it, BabyNames.com (www.babynames.com) likes it for a boy's name. The site's more than 1 million members listed Aidan (Aiden, Aden) as their favorite boy's name. Their top boys' names of 2006 also included Caden (Kaden) at No. 2, Braden (Brayden, Braeden) at No. 3, Jaden (Jayden) at No. 4, and Hayden at No. 11. Ethan was No. 5. For girls, Ava was tops, followed by, in order, Abigail, Cailyn (Kaelyn), Madison and Emma.

WORD OF THE YEAR "Truthiness," coined by Stephen Colbert of Comedy Central's "The Colbert Report," was picked by visitors to Merriam-Webster's Web site (www.m-w.com/info/06words.htm) by a 5-1 majority vote as the word of the year. Colbert said it means "truth that comes from the gut, not books." The American Dialect Society formally defined it later as meaning "the quality of preferring concepts or facts one wishes to be true, rather than concepts or facts known to be true." The rest of the top five: "google," "decider," "war," and "insurgent."

TOP NATURE VIDEO National Geographic News (news.nationalgeographic.com) recently announced its biggest stories of 2006 (www.startribune.com/a2069), a list topped by the revealing of the Gospel of Judas. But more interesting, certainly from a visceral standpoint, is National Geographic's best videos of 2006 (www.startribune.com/a2068), topped by amazing footage of a giant Pacific octopus battling a spiny dogfish shark in an aquarium.

TOP SCAM The Consumer Affairs Web site (www.consumeraffairs.com) says that after evaluating the 50,000 consumer complaints it received in 2006, its top scam of the year is a growing scheme in which victims are told they have won a lottery in Canada or Europe and must pay various fees to collect it. One Kansas man lost $300,000. "You can't win a contest that you didn't enter," one official reminded consumers.

FUNNIEST POLITICAL QUOTE Politics are a funny business to pundit Howard Mortman, aka Extreme Mortman, so it's only natural that he compile his list of the funniest political quotes of 2006 for his blog (www.extrememortman.com). Sen. Ted Stevens' comment that the Internet is "a series of tubes" seemed like a shoo-in when he uttered it in June. But then Sen. John Kerry came up with his much-publicized zinger to top Mortman's list: "If you make the most of (education), you study hard, you do your homework, and you make an effort to be smart, you can do well. If you don't, you get stuck in Iraq." Kerry later said that he was trying to make a joke, but that it came out wrong. "We'll believe him," Mortman said in explaining his choice. "But not without a price."

BEST VIRAL VIDEO Forget the top movies of 2006. IFILM has weighed in with its best viral videos of the year (www.ifilm.com/collection/18220) _ the kind of clips that are passed around by e-mail and posted on blogs and other sites. Top candidates included comedian Michael Richards' racist tirade during a show, news personality Connie Chung massacring "Thanks for the Memories" and comedian Judson Laipply performing seemingly every dance move of the past 50 years in six minutes. But the winner was "Brokeback to the Future," a hilarious faux movie trailer using existing footage to suggest that Marty McFly and Doc Brown had a more personal relationship in the "Back to the Future" films.

TYPO OF THE YEAR The must-read site Regret the Error (www.regrettheerror.com), which tracks mistakes in the media, honors Reuters for creating the typographical error of the year in a story about a recall of "beef panties" (www.startribune.com/a2072). What kind of buns go with those?

(Randy A. Salas is a columnist for the Minneapolis Star Tribune. Do you have a favorite Web site or a question about how to find something on the Internet? E-mail websearch@startribune.com or go to his blog, www.startribune.com/websearch.)

All snug in their beds

After a birthday outing to Ripley's, Sunset Celebration, Hard Rock Cafe, a ghost tour on the way back to the van and a stop at the Looe Key Tiki to dance a couple songs, it was back home for the screening of "The Princess Bride." From left, Macy, Jackie, Claire, Reanna and Sabrina. Five girls on a sofa bed, Christmas cookies and one tired mama. Wouldn't you know they kept me up until 2:30 a.m. It was a magical evening to be 9 -- or 32.

Silver Man rules!

Of all the buskers at Sunset Celebration, perhaps it was the Silver Man that the girls were most enthralled with. Is he a statue? Nope, there's an ear wiggle. Throw a few bucks in his bucket and he'll oblige with robotic high-fives for all and even leave a little silver on your hand! Surely the best souvenir of the evening!

A bird on the head...

Is worth two in the Head Zoo? We never miss an opportunity to chase the resident fowl in the sculpture garden at Mallory Square for the Sunset Celebration. Call me chicken, but this overprotective mama chased us on this visit!

Funhouse mirror

A distorted Sabrina and Macy during our outing to Ripley's Believe It Or Not! for Claire's 9th birthday soiree in Key West.

A walk home from the tiki?

Obviously, somebody leaving Looe Key Tiki had a few two many to be driving, and some other poor sap probably had a long walk home!

Merry Fishmas!

You're a mean one Mr. Grinch

The cops frequently set up a speed trap across the street from the Keynoter, which is great entertainment on a deadline day, but it's never really front-page photo worthy. Except when the Grinch comes to help them run radar. He was waving speeders over to the side of the road and yes, they were ticketed. Talk about steeling cheer!

Keith and Crystal

At the Boondocks party -- this is Crystal, who Keith works the bar floor with every weekend. She's a deal!

Actually, I did find one

Kelly took this at Keith's Christmas party at Boondocks. A photo of me with makeup on. That almost never happens.

Long day

Jessica in the girls' room doorway, trying to round up the troops. Not looking my best, or even close to it, but it's rare that I'm in front of the camera.

Go up the stairs

And welcome to our place. It's a Bahamian (and hence Keys) tradition to put a conch shell outside your front door as a sign of welcome and good luck. The Bahamians were some of the first settlers here and Keys natives call themselves "conchs." For a fun story about our wacky history (as in 1980s history) look up The Conch Republic -- www.conchrepublic.com -- when we seceded from the U.S. in protest to Bush Sr. politics.

The backyard

With your back to the canal, this is what you see.

Our house -- a photo tour

Looking down our canal, which comes out into Bogie Channel. We're on the bayside now, but only about a half mile from the ocean side. Then it's only about six miles to the reef.

Wine charms

Keith frequently comes home with fun bar goodies from Boondocks, and right before Thanksgiving, brought me a set of wine charms. You know, those little charms you put on wine glass stems so when you're having a party everyone can tell which glass is theirs.

They're from Ravenswood (yum) and one said "No whimpy wahns y'all" and another one said (see photo) "No vinos sin huevos."

So, at our Thanksgiving feast, I proceeded to ask everyone who knew any spanish at all what the heck that's supposed to mean. We determined vinos -- wines, and huevos -- eggs. Wine and eggs ... no wine and eggs?

I sent the photo to Melody, our production goddess at the Keynoter who is from Uraguay, and she said it means "No wines without eggs." I don't understand, I told her. And she repeated it. "No wines without eggs." Then I thought about it. And remembered the southern drawl version stated above. "Is eggs slang for nuts?" I asked. Now I was confusing her. "Balls, testicles," I said. "Oh. Yes," she said.

Mystery solved. No vinos sin huevos. Your fun new phrase of the day.

Claire and Thomas

Kept Sugar busy playing stick while they talked about ... well, what is it 9-year-old talk about out these days? I was keeping a safe distance and couldn't evesdrop, too much. Oops, looks like I was spotted!

kids in the hood

Claire is now officially a "tween." The right clothes and not looking like a dork are of the utmost importance. She still claims boys are grody, but not too grody to hang out with from time to time apparently. This is our neighbor Thomas, who can usually be found outside for some good fun.

the secret of salt

A cool literary journal, which you can find under my links list, just came out. The publisher, Kim Narenkivicius, gave me the preview copy on disc and now that I have the bound copy, the loose print-out pages have become Macy's art paper pile. Reduce, reuse, recycle peeps.

When the going gets tough...

...the tough wear underwear on their heads. Also a good tip for breaking up the cleaning-my-room doldrums, I hear.

It's a new Flath!

Grace Elizabeth Flath was born at home in Seattle to our dear friends Matt and Stephanie. She weighed 7 lbs. 10 oz. Hmmmm, that's what Macy weighed, exactly. And at home. Macy-Gracie? Hey guys, you may be in deeper than you ever imagined!! Love you all! Can't wait to see her and smell her head.

Fantasy time

This is just before I hosted Keynoter TV in a blue wig for our Fantasy Fest show. The ice godess in white is Sandy, and of course Macy just thinks Mom's a weirdo. And she's right. But hey, that's why I make the big bucks. Ha.

Chicks with guns!

We didn't do so bad ourselves, even if none of our fish were 36 inches. The grouper I'm holding is a scamp -- first time I shot one of those. We'll see how he tastes. In this shot, from left to right, it's Jessica, Jessica, Rachel and Rachel. Maybe that's why we had a lucky day.

Big blacks

Here are Keith and Jeff's prizes, shot on a 90-foot ledge at American Shoals off Big Pine Key.

Just hangin' out

Rare moments of peace

Keith must feel like he rode the one-man testicle train into a house of crazy ladies at times. But there are, in between full moons and other alignments of the cosmos that send us into tearful fits for seemingly no reason at all, times when we must seem so sugary sweet we may melt if it rains. This is one of those moments.

Macy does gymnastics at home, too

The girls' new room is tiny, at best, just like our last place, but at $1400 a month for a two-bed, one bath (and our washer and dryer is in the bathroom, which is a first for me!) they can live with it. Claire likes to ask me why she can't have her own room, and I like to reply that as long as I have to share a room, she does too. Then I like to remind her of when she spent the night with the Hale family. They have five kids and all of them live aboard a 38-foot sailboat -- that's two cuddy bedrooms. I'll have to post a photo of them somewhere on here. They sailed off to other islands -- the Turks and Caicos -- a couple months ago.

The mountain

Down our street, the girls discovered a "mountain." Hey, doesn't take much to qualify in the Keys, where the highest point above sea level is about six feet, K? Anyway, it's from years ago when they dug out a canal and left the fill in a pile, which is now overgrown with pines and mangroves. Our new neighborhood is full of fun stuff like this, including a 9-year-old neighbor boy next door, Thomas, who has a swingset. Sugar likes the mountain too.

The front yard

We've only got the top half, the rest is hidden by Oleander. Some guy and his surly teenage daughter live downstairs, but they're moving out at the end of the month. We're hoping we can "recruit" our new neighbors. The people on each side of us are very nice; we can deal with the loud rednecks across the street. They're far enough away (not sharing a wall with us) that they're pretty much just comic relief. It is the Keys after all, you're going to be a stone's throw from drunk, toothless retards no matter where you are.

Our new place

30827 Baileys Lane. Mmm, Baileys. So this is our backyard, where we park the boat. We're on the bayside of the islands now, not the oceanside, so we're finding new fishing spots and all the crab traps you see stacked on the dock can go back in the water today. Stone crab season begins Oct. 15. Mmm, stone crabs.

Gymnastics

Macy takes gymnastics every week at her new preschool, Banana Cabana. She loves it. Here is Miss Jan helping her do a back walkover/headstand.

Rabbit fever

I got such feedback from my farfegnugen column, mostly things like "I can't believe you published a photo of yourself with a mullet," and such. Anyway, I thought I should post it here and the color version of the infamous photo. Here goes... (Nice socks, Michael.)



Farfegnugen: A coming of age

I've had the Patrick and Eugene not-such-a-hit “Birds and the Bees” song in my head for a solid week now as I dream of driving my brand new little Š white? Silver? Black? Volkswagen Rabbit. As long as it's a diesel.I'm listening to that catchy little tune on the Internet now as my 8-year-old dances behind me making pokey motions at my head. She's trying to irritate me, but -- Moohahaha! -- if she only knew.
Gas conservation is important, and I'm as green as any, and the Rabbit is cute, has that Volkswagen reliability and solid suspension to be sure, but none of those reasons is why I want one so badly.It's for exactly what Volkswagen is banking on: Nostalgia.
See, we had a big Crown Royal bottle up in the kitchen cabinet when I was a kid. Whatever change it had in it by the time summer came went to the family vacation fund. In the early '80s, when I was going into fifth grade and my older brother into eighth, summer vacation was in the middle of a gas crisis.But no worries, my dad smiled from ear to ear as he whipped our brand new ride into the driveway. Gone was the Oldsmobile, in was the Rabbit. A bronzy-orange-brownish diesel Rabbit. It was cutting-edge front-wheel drive and everything.
Could we make it across the country, a family of four, in a four-door economy car? Sure! Could we pay for gas with the contents of the Crown Royal bottle and still have plenty left for souvenirs? Sure! Could we get straight to Disney World without stopping even once? Su... oh. Wait. I guess when my parents were planning our “educational trip,” that didn't involve Mickey Mouse.
Washington D.C.? My brother and I were deflated. Well, maybe he wasn't so into Mickey Mouse, but I don't think the White House was necessarily his idea of fun, either.
In the end, that trip was educational all right, but not in the way of learning how our great country was formed.
All the talk of the Smithsonian National Air and Space museum, the Civil War battle grounds we'd visit in Tennessee on the way, and then again in Pennsylvania on the way back could not make us smile as we posed for a pre-departure photo in front of the Rabbit.
Two weeks, two suitcases.
One back seat, two kids.
One big brother, two smelly feet in my face.
One 1983 family budget, two college friends in Virginia we could all stay with.
One couch there, two hours commuting to D.C. proper.One SBD (silent but deadly) filling up that tiny car and we knew it was all over but the crying.
Oh, and there was crying.I'm positive my parents yearned for the trips we made before then, when my brother and I would ride in the camper shell on the back of the truck and all they had to do was slide the rear window shut to keep from hearing us.I know we did. At least we had John Denver and Kenny Rogers on 8-track we could jam out to in the camper. We could stretch out, play cards, not even have each other in our respective periferal vision if we weren't speaking at that point.
No, no, not in the Rabbit. We were one, tightly compacted, happy family. “Blue Eyes Cryin' in the Rain” had been replaced with the steady drone of NPR.
I've taken my kids (and the dog) on cross-country trips in our 1984 Ford Econoline van, a rental mini-van, an airplane, and even in a Jetta I used to have. But not a Rabbit. And that's just the kind of learning how to love your sibling fun I just don't feel right about them missing out on.
And what about when my brother lost his retainer at the space museum and dumpster diving ensued? Or when I planted my feet on the stairs in front of some museum and refused to enter “just one more?” (I think my dad was glad for that one, actually; he opted to sit outside on a park bench with me and watch homeless people with me while my mom and brother went inside.)
Several days of driving two hours into the city in plenty of time to make our 7 a.m. tour had taken it's toll. They wouldn't even let us lie down -- or, try to lie down -- to sleep on the way because they were paranoid about using the HOV lane when four people were not in plain view. Ever try sleeping with your face pressed up against the window in a Rabbit? I'm sure it was at least comical for the people we were passing.
Or the chronic gas that follows too much fast food? Perhaps having to walk alongside a father who, despite his knowledge that ‘80s fashion did not include plaid madras shorts with homemade “Jesus sandals” and socks, packed every pair he owned. Or the three cameras he wore around his neck for each trip?
Or how wonderfully uncarbonated real Amish root beer is? And what Amish cheese smells like after a few hours in the Pennsylvania sunshine because, you know, there's no room for a cooler in a Rabbit.
Or leaving a brand new, plush Garfield stuffed animal at the hotel, only to realize it several hundred miles later?
The utter joy they are missing out on is breaking my heart, and I know that deep down, only a VW Rabbit can make their lives complete.
Just imagine my joy at stumbling across the “VW aims at nostalgia niche” headline. The article quotes, "VW needs more emotional models." (Just how emotional, these people have no idea).
I also found a “create your own Rabbit” tool on VW's Web site. Which I did. Somehow my “starting at $14,900” turned into $26,000, which isn't exactly my idea of an “economy car,” so it looks like we'll just have to wait a couple years.
Now that I'm thinking about it, if I wait until Macy's in fourth grade, Claire will be in eighth, and I can pick up a nice used model. Carry on the tradition, so to speak. It's the perfect plan.
And if they think we're going to Disney World, they're crazy. I don't care if Walt Disney was from Missouri.

Dancing Queen

Claire had her first school dance the other day. Planned the outfit. Planned the hair. Practiced dancing in the living room. I had her stand in front of her school's mascot, which I affectionately refer to as the "trippin' dolphin" -- she doesn't get that one yet -- before we entered the cafetorium, where the dance was hip hoppin'. She said she didn't dance with any boys, only her girlfriends, had some pizza and soda and all in all a really good time. Except she got there after Sam the DJ played the Cha Cha Slide, which she was bummed about. (That was one we practiced in the living room the previous night. And Cotton Eyed Joe and a few others.) We determined at that point that both of us are way too caucasian to do the "bootie wiggle," which I'm sure is a talent her Latino friends are just born with. Oh well.

How I accidentally ended up in Cuba -- the story of airport hell, meeting new friends and old ones...

This is my column -- The FlipSide -- in this week's L'Attitudes. And yeah, Rebecca, I put your photo on the cover to tease the story. Now you're famous. Or is that infamous?

Accidentally ending up in Cuba

By Jessica Machetta

OK, so it was Cuba, Mo. In fact, one could visit Paris, Versailles, Mexico and Japan all in the same day - all Show Me State-style - if they wanted too, but I don't recommend it.What I wanted was to board a direct flight from Miami to St. Louis, then do the reverse to get home three days later, just as I'd booked tickets to do more than two months ago.

I drove to Miami last Thursday with a happy feeling in my heart. Excited to see my girls, my family, my friends - gifts for all in my suitcase.One missed exit, one traffic jam, two incomprehensible sets of directions (Spanish-speaking only), a call to my friend Jenn who talked me through it all while she was on MapQuest, two full parking garages and a broken suitcase later, I was laughed at when I asked at bag check if there was any way I would make my flight. I opted for the later flight to Atlanta where I would make my connecting flight.

Or so I thought.In Atlanta, after being sent from Gate T to Gate C than back to Gate T, I was told the flight was delayed one hour. Which is why it was funny when I returned 15 minutes later to a locked door and no gate attendant. (OK, well now it's funny.) I and another girl (also told it would be one hour - we'd gone two gates down to suck down a quick ciggy) practically had siezures in front of the window trying to get the pilot's attention.

Then we ran both ways trying to find another gate attendant. No dice. Sweating and waving some more, we freaked out together, much to the amusement of the people who had already been waiting around for hours upon hours, trying to get to Chicago where weather was a problem.

“Why didn't you wave at the window?” the attendant asked.We told her we about stroked out we were waving so much and she said something like, “That's strange, usually the pilot sees that and tells me to come back and get the passengers.”But that would be luck, something that was not on my side this time.

After booking a 7 a.m. flight the next morning, my new friend said she was taking the same early morning flight and that I could stay with her at her condo.I was incredulous.“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it's no problem. We'll take the train to my house, shower, book a cab for the morning and come back,” she said.

“Um, I'm Jessica, by the way,” said.

“I'm Rebecca.”

So I accepted. Once at her condo, she remembered she'd given her house keys to a friend. When he showed up with them, he determined we both looked like we needed a drink. Indeed. If you're ever in Atlanta, there's a great little pub in Midtown called McCray's. It's next to the gay district.Once back at her place, we decided we better not sleep at all for fear of missing another flight. The next morning, er, three hours later, our cabby never showed. We found him at the Krispy Kreme on the corner, sleeping.

Back at ATL, I tried to print my boarding pass at a kiosk (Rebecca's printed just fine) and it said to see an attendant, who shooed me to the back of a long line. Fighting back tears, I waited for what seemed like forever. Finally it was my turn.“I'm showing that you made your destination last night,” the lady told me.

Are you kidding me?

OK, more hustling.

Rebecca waited for me at the head of the security check line and let me cut in. That's what new friends do for each other.

“We have time for one, quick cigarette,” she said. “Wouldn't it be funny if we saw our Chicago friends in there?”

The previous evening, we had met Alex and Wendell, two strangers-now-friends, who were punch drunk after a multitude of delays. They were supposed to finally board at the same time we were.We walked into the smoking cage, and there they were. Apparently, Chicago was so backed up, their pilot decided he “didn't want to do it.”

One cigarette, a few laughs about our combined misfortune, well wishes and we were off. We landed, promised to stay in touch and split to find our respective families.

I got my rental car, which had Wisconsin plates, so when I missed my exit - again - I didn't look too foolish asking for directions. I knew something was wrong when I started seeing signs for Cuba. It was raining like crazy and there were tornado warnings for most of the St. Louis region.

People were calling into the radio stations talking about how they'd been without power for two days and it was sweltering. Ironic, considering last time I came from St. Louis into the Keys it was the day after Wilma. Seems I have a knack for traveling into chaos.

Needless to say, on the return, after lots of good times with my friends and family back home, I headed back to the airport six hours before my departure time. I wasn't taking any chances. As is Murphy's Law, it took me and my girls all of 20 minutes to return the car, check in and get to our gate. So we ate and shopped, shopped and ate.

We went to the gate to see if we could board early and get going on a nap.

“That flight's been cancelled because of mechanical problems,” the attendant said. He tried to send me to Vegas for a connection. I said no. Chicago? No.

“Well where do you want to go?” he asked.“Somewhere in Florida would be nice,” I said, starting to get snappy.

One of my favorite movie lines, “It's good to want things,” didn't provide any comfort as I stood at my gate, two tired children in tow, crying on the phone to my friend Vala in St. Augustine.

“They don't fly into Jacksonville,” I squeaked. (I start losing my voice after several days of little to no sleep.)

“Yes we do, yes we do,” the attendant interrupted.

“I'll see you about midnight,” I told Vala.We were at a table having a snack and a drink, again, when I said to my oldest daughter Claire, “Tell mama not to cry, everything's going to be OK.”

“Mom, you might as well go ahead and cry, everything is not going to be all right,” she said.I stared at her. “Just kidding,” she said, “everything's going to be fine. We're going to go see aunt Vala, right?”

And we did. And it was. We went back to JAX the next morning, caught our flight back to MIA, got our car and headed for the islands.

Would you believe I hit mini-season traffic as soon as I got on the turnpike? I bet you would.

So to Rebecca, Alex and Wendell, what a long strange trip it's been. And you never know how many potential new friends await your arrival in the smoking section.May all of your journeys be safe ones.

Jessica Machetta is the editor of L'Attitudes. She can be reached at jmachetta@keynoter.com.

Banana Cabanna

Macy loves her new school. She let me take this ONE photo with my cell phone before she ran inside to meet her new teachers and classmates. She's growing like a weed and is for sure too smart for us all.

Pit stop St. Augustine

Vala, Kev, Stryker and Ursula: It was so good to see you all, even if for just a few hours. I guess if you gotta take a screw from the airline, this is the way to do it! See you all on the flipside.

You're beautiful baby...

Keep repeating it Sean. You're doing good. Say it again. AGAIN! Now try this one: Can I get you anything baby? Rub your back? Some ice cream? You're so beautiful. Sooooo beautiful. And sexy. Throw that in there a lot too.

Ron and Karen

Uncle Ron drove all the way to the airport to get me ... and I wasn't there. You've already heard this story. But no worries, he still hosted a cookout for us before we came home. Ron and Karen are like mother hens. Don't get too worked up about anything and always big hugs to share. And I got to see Fabian and Rachel's new little boy, Fox, and Jenn and Sean showed up too. Sean got lots of pregnant women stories, poor boy. Rub the belly Sean, just rub the belly. Repeat after me, "You're beautiful, honey." Keep repeating for the next seven to 56 months, however long it takes! And mean it, dammit! Dinner, of course, was fabulous. Nothing like good ol' homegrown Missouri ribs. Except maybe mutton snapper, right Ron?

ten and two, ten and two

Nothing like having your kid drive you around for the first time. Claire perfected her driving skills before I got there, so no, we did not end up in the blackberry patch. Thank goodness. We got to the end of the lane, and as if I hadn't trekked that path a ga-jillion times as a kid, she said, "Hang on mom, it's a little bumpy in this part." It was a glorous tour of soybeans, the creek, an old Pontiac shell my brother dragged up there years ago, corn, old air conditioning units apprently now used for target practice (didn't get to shoot any guns this time, darn it), more soybeans ... and soybeans. Oh, and hills. It was good to see hills again.

Sara and Gideon

New mama! Sorry Sara and Jason, but you're doomed with the next baby because this kid is sooooo good that you are in for a treat with No. 2! Claire was unimpressed -- yeah, yeah, babies -- Macy was enthralled, I just wanted to smell his head. Working on that second one yet? Uh huh! Good job you guys. He's beautiful. You're beautiful. We're all pretty beautiful.

Annie

Annie K -- my artist. My muse. My practical dreamer. We're all going to see her name in galleries one day. Somewhere on this blog I posted a buncha reasons why I love me Annie K. You're going to have to look for them. I have more photos to post.

Ana and Chrissy

We girls all got together at Sara's house for some wine, food and yes, lots of good conversation. I've got the most beautiful friends in the world, you know. Aren't we a buncha sexy dames? Both of these chicas have had two kids. And look at 'em. Dead sexy, both of 'em.

Dad's jeans and farm scenes

When I was growing up, my dad played a lot of Cat Stevens on the reel-to-reel. It's become my favorite comfort music, and perhaps the one that is closest to my heart is "Very Young." It's a song I don't recall hearing so much as a kid, but one that reminds me of the fragility of life, children, and dreams.

Quite fitting that on Highway W, just after leaving the farm to head back home, it came over the radio. I turned it up loud and the girls and I sang along. I didn't cry, but I wanted to. The best line in the song is about dad's jeans. I took a photo of dad's jeans on the clothes line while I was there, fluffy clouds, corn and all.

Sing along for a minute:

Oh very young what will you leave us this time?
You're only dancing on this earth for a short while.
And though your dreams may toss and turn you now,
They will vanish away like your dad's best jeans,
Denim blue fading up to the sky.
And though you want them to last forever,
You know they never will.
You know they never will.
And the patches make the goodbye harder still.

Oh very young what will you leave us this time?
There'll never be a better chance to change your mind.
And if you want this world to see a better day,
Will you carry the words of love with you?
Will you ride the great white bird into heaven?
And though you want to last forever,
You know you never will.
You know you never will.
And the goodbye makes the journey harder still.

Oh very young what will you leave us this time?
You're only dancing on this earth for a short while.

Oh very young what will you leave us this time?

Me and my bro

I think this is when my brother was asking me if I ever had problems with boogers getting caked up around the inside of my nose ring. Guess he's always wondered that. He's a cop now and is loving it. Seems we've both gone through some life changes that have been good for the soul. Thanks to him I'm a crack shot and one tough cookie. Never thought I'd say this, but thanks for beating the crap out of me on a regular basis, Michael. I'm a better woman for it. See you in church.

Meeting Rebecca

This is the girl who graciously took me into her home when we both got missed our plane in Atlanta. She's the one on the far right.

Her name is Rebecca Saferstein. She's a paralegal. She taught me to say "Oy vey, I'm schvitzing" when it's crazy hot down here. She grew up in Miami so I guess she would know.

She was on her way to Peachfest, an annual family reunion tradition in St. Louis. I'm glad I met her. Not only was she my savior, but she's a neat person and a lot of fun. You never know where life's little mishaps will lead you. Our little airport mishap led us to a McCray's, an awesome little pub in the gay district of Midtown in Atlanta. Sweet!

Hangin' with the boys

GRANDMAAAAAAAA'S ! ! !

Note and photos from Grandpa...

Ms. Jessica and Mr. Keith:

I am sending a few photos to show you the kids are doing just fine. We dug a few potatoes, went to Jackie and Harold's to see the chicks and slide downtheir slide and of course driving the golf cart. We went swimming too. The kids are doing very well. Patty took them to the drug store and bought each of them a stuffed animal and told them to be real good in the store. Patty said that when they left the woman said, "My, those are really nice kids."Or something like that. Macy is such a sight. Jessica, she will probably be like you in that they may ask you if you want them to move her ahead agrade or two in school. Patty says Macy didn't say she was sad last night. She was probably too worn out to care. Anyway they are beautiful kids. Claire practiced a few times driving the golf cart but ran into the blackberry patch on her maiden flight. She was all upset but got over it and is now wrestling with the boys.

My raft expert

My friend and fellow writer Matt Lawrence says that tiny foam raft was made by pouring gasoline to shape the foam into or onto a wood frame and the notches indicate they left with food and water because after 4 days with nothing on the open water you're done. And the bundles of twine on board were for fishing while they were out there. Talk about sushi, ick.

"Not many make it on those types of rafts," he says. "Back in the 90s, three out of four that tried, died."

He says the empty ones floating out there are called "tombstones at sea."

He's an expert on the situation because he used to fly over the Atlantic looking for rafters and helped in rescues. Wrote a gripping novel about it called "Dying To Get Here: A Story of Coming to America." Got to www.mattlawrencebooks.com and check it out. Then buy it and read it because he's when he gets rich from the book sales he's going to hook me up.

Tools of survival

Dying to get here

The calm, flat seas of summer are what the Cuban people wait for each year, when they take their makeshift rafts made of whatever they can find and set sail for America. We found this one on the shore of a local hidden beach on Big Pine. Judging by the clothes left on board, it looks like there was at least two men and one woman. Judging by the broken hammer, rusty nails and balls of twine, the refugees were prepared to make repairs as needed on the way. Notches on one of the wood strips say they were at sea for about 13 days to make the 90-mile trip to the United States. Jenn says the title of this photo story should be "Salvation." Macy tries is out for size, which you can see is pretty small for such a big journey.

"Noodlepants" Pillar

These are the victims of Hurricane Wilma and this is these are their stories. (Actually, the story that goes with this photo is posted below, but I just wanted to sound all dramatic and stuff like the TV show.) Note: Just as the experts tell us, proper surivial gear is mandated if you're going to stick out a storm in the Keys. Scott models his state-of-the-art gear, personal floatation device (noodle-seat floatie), waterproof clothing (Hefty garbage bag) and shelf-sustainable foods (Budweiser). Now let's have ourselves a hurricane party!